


Requirements

by AnneScriblerian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneScriblerian/pseuds/AnneScriblerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to prompt: "Harry can’t sleep and wanders the castle. Suddenly, he notices the doors to the Room of Requirement and figures he must have walked past it three times. Curious as to what it might be he requires he walks in to find a luxurious bed. He sits down, thinking that he might as well try and sleep, he finds himself blindfolded and thoroughly made love to."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requirements

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very long PWP I wrote for Snarry-a-Thon 10. Love and thanks to my beta, Celta Diabolica. This was my first time with a beta. She was so skilled and gentle that the experience was nothing but pure pleasure.

Harry Potter was about to explode. He couldn't even stand to lie in his bed anymore, pretending that he might fall asleep at some point. His life was a mess. It was completely unfair and more than a little frustrating. He had bloody well done what he needed to do, what everyone had expected him to do. And now he didn’t know what to do. He had never planned beyond Voldemort’s defeat. He had never expected to win. He had never even expected to live. And now it was all over and nothing had changed.

Well, there was the fact that his life was no longer in constant danger. The expectant sense of need that had faced him everywhere he turned had been replaced by faces full of open adulation or jealousy. Even his friends were no comfort. Ron was irritated with him because Harry was so withdrawn since he had defeated Voldemort. He couldn’t understand why Harry wasn’t finally happy. Hermione was more understanding of Harry's moods, but she was always irritated with Ron. Apparently that was their method of foreplay. Harry knew better than to hope for relief, but he craved peace and quiet. So he left Gryffindor tower and wandered the midnight halls of Hogwarts, as he had for the last half-decade and more.

It was well past curfew when he realized that he was pacing outside the Room of Requirement. He must have walked past the wall three times because he noticed a door. He didn't think he had been wishing for anything in particular. What could the Room be offering? One thing was sure, it couldn’t be worse than what he had. He hated the knee-jerk reaction of guilt that flared when he bitterly thought about what he had: Nothing.

He cautiously entered the Room. It was empty except for a giant bed. It was the most luxurious bed Harry had ever seen. Its contrasting layers of silk and velvet called to him. He figured that the Room had simply sensed his need for sleep. And who was he to argue?

After sleeping on a crib mattress in a dark closet for ten years, Harry thought any bed on which he could stretch out was perfectly adequate. The warm, faded blankets on the second bed in Ron’s room at the Burrow were lovely and soft from years of washing. The red and gold coverlets on the beds in the Gryffindor dorms, which had seemed terribly posh during his first year at Hogwarts, were now so familiar as to be invisible. This bed was different. The covers were the colors of water. His hands slide over green velvet and blue silk, caressing their softness. There were lots of dark green pillows that looked almost black in the flickering firelight that barely lit the room. The different textures and the soothing colors made Harry want to sink into the bed like he would sink into a warm bath. It had been ages since he’d relaxed. Maybe he’d never actually relaxed, what with one thing and another.

Harry lay down on the bed and rolled around for a bit, just enjoying the softness. He suddenly felt the urge to feel the different textures of the bed's covers on his skin. As he thought it, he found himself naked. He laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Thank Merlin that his friends couldn’t see him now.

He wasn't laughing for long. Before he could fully enjoy the feel of the lavish bedding on his bare skin, he was firmly forced onto his back. His eyes were covered with what must have been a magically-enhanced blindfold. There was no glimpse of light available to him. When he raised his hands to rip off the blindfold, his wrists were wrapped with something soft. Then they were pulled, gently but irrevocably, over his head. He writhed in his bonds and discovered that he was completely trapped. He was surprised at his lack of panic, or even fear. He was surprised to find that he trusted the Room. The castle had always looked after him. Its walls meant safety to him. So he decided to wait and see what it had in store for him now. He had nothing to lose, after all.

No sooner had Harry stilled than he heard footsteps approaching the bed. His heart began to pound and he began to panic. It sounded like the footsteps had come from the hall. He would not want to be seen in this position by anyone real. The Room and whatever it had planned for him was one thing, but real people were another. Plus, he was terribly vulnerable. He tensed his legs in case he needed to fight. But nothing happened. Whoever had entered the room had simply stopped by the side of the bed. It was so quiet. Nothing but Harry's own breath filled his ears.

After what seemed like hours, everything suddenly happened at once. Harry suddenly felt a great weight on his legs. He tried to buck it off, and then felt hands gripping his hips. This shocked him into stillness. He licked his lips, and swallowed audibly. The hands were gentle, but firm. His whole body was now completely restrained, but suddenly he felt safe. Clearly this was not a real person. This was the Room working its magic. It knew that he was tired. He was not just tired from lack of sleep. He was tired of acting. Tired of making decisions. Tired of being separate from everyone. He just wanted to be taken care of for once. The Room was taking care of him. He let out a deep, shuddering sigh and relaxed his body.

He was rewarded for his cooperation. The hands pressed firmly into his flesh and moved up his stomach to his chest. They paused for a moment, and Harry held his breath. Then strong fingers pinched one of his nipples. Harry moaned. When the other hand moved up to cup the back of his head, he gasped. His gasp was swallowed as his mouth was devoured in a savage kiss.

His senses were almost swallowed up by the mouth that worked his, but he was also becoming aware of details about the body that pressed him down into the bed. Woolen trousers scratched against his legs. They sheathed firm, muscular legs that squeezed around him. Long hair brushed against his collarbone, tickling him. Bare feet rubbed against his calves.

He could no longer hold still. He had never felt anything like this in his entire life. It was a thousand times better than wanking. It was a million times better than kissing Cho or Ginny. This was not soft or yielding. It was hard and demanding and there was stubble… His mind was ripped away from the thought as the hands began to move over his body.

The hands worked over his flesh like he was being tested for ripeness. They rubbed and pinched his flesh. The fingertips were rough, almost calloused. There was no gentleness in these hands, and Harry found this to be almost unbearably exciting. He was moaning continuously, but not from pain. His moans were swallowed by another fierce kiss, and then the mouth... oh. The mouth licked and sucked and nipped and then licked again. Every inch of Harry's body was being claimed, and he was almost delirious with the rush of it.

Harry thought he might pass out. He had never been so hard. He found himself pleading with his unknown partner. He begged and writhed, trying to thrust his cock against something. His back and buttocks tensed as he arched up against the weight that restrained his legs. Then the weight lifted and he groaned with disappointment even as his hips left the surface of the bed. But there was no use arguing with the Room. It clearly had his own ideas about what Harry needed. Frankly, it was just brilliant. Harry fully trusted that whatever followed would be surprising and perfect, just like everything else about this experience had been.

He was proven correct when two strong hands grasped his buttocks and his hips were lifted even farther off the bed. He screamed as his cock was enveloped in a warm, wet mouth. Almost as soon as he was engulfed he exploded, screaming with each pulse of his cock as his come was greedily swallowed.

When he was spent, Harry was gently lowered back down to the bed. As he gasped for breath, he was grasped under the arms and hoisted up until he was sitting against the headboard of the bed. This loosened the pull on his arms from the restraints, and he panted with relief. Pillows were placed behind his back and a hand massaged the back of his neck. A cup was held to his lips and he cautiously wet his lips before he swallowed all of the cool water. As the cup was withdrawn, a hand smoothed his hair and caressed his cheek. He unconsciously pushed into the hand, begging for more contact. He felt a thumb rub his bottom lip, and he instinctively sucked it into his mouth.

When there was no audible reaction to his audacity, Harry suddenly became aware that his partner had been completely silent during this entire strange encounter. He sucked harder on the thumb and then bit down. Not hard enough to mark the skin, but hard enough to draw a cry from the thumb's owner. Yet the man made no sound. He knew it was a man. Women were soft and they didn’t have stubble.

Harry was a bit flustered that the Room had read his secret desire. He told himself he didn't care. He didn't want to care that an unknown man had drawn more pleasure from him than he had ever felt with the girls he was supposed to have loved. His Muggle upbringing had left him with a lingering fear of admitting his attraction to both sexes, even though such things were quite acceptable in the wizarding world. This lingering fear had kept him from pursuing men in the real world, even if it had not put a limit on his fantasies. Not that his fantasies were anything like what was actually happening to him. He had imagined rubbing and kissing. Friction and effort. This complete surrender was a pleasure beyond any of which he had ever dreamed.

There may have been no audible response to his bite, but the thumb was quickly withdrawn. Harry barely had time to whimper at its loss before the bed began to toss from the quick shifting of his partner on the bed. He felt his hips being straddled. Harry felt the rough wool of the man's trousers rubbing on his legs. The gender of his partner was no longer deniable as he felt the blunt end of another's cock gently pressing against his lips. His thoughts raced. This was nothing he hadn't imagined, but it was nothing he thought would ever actually happen. Who could he ever trust enough to dominate him in this way? But this was fine. It wasn't real. He was in the Room of Requirement, and the Room magically knew what he needed. It seemed that this was it. Harry Potter took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

He had been so focused on his own sensations until now that he had noticed very little outside of himself. But as the sizable head of the other's cock pressed in between his lips, he noticed that there was a very familiar smell permeating his senses. It was there under the sharp scent of his own come, and the foreign scent of the other's arousal. He couldn't immediately place the scent. It made him a bit nervous, but the fluttery feeling it engendered was anything but unpleasant, so he put it out of his mind. As the thick shaft pushed into his mouth, inch by inch, he felt more and more aroused, despite his own recent climax. He had thought that this would be awkward, even disgusting. But despite a certain amount of slightly uncomfortable mental rearranging, he was enjoying the experience more than he would have believed possible.

Perhaps it was because he was so helpless. Logically, this should lead to him feeling violated by his partner. But he didn’t. Instead, he felt freed. He was surprised that he would enjoy this complete loss of control so much. After all, it had always been imperative that he keep control of the situation. This necessity was what made him able to resist the Imperius Curse. But the war was over. Harry froze for a moment as this realization really hit him for the very first time. He could finally let down his guard and let the Room give him what he wanted, rather than what the world needed.

He wasn't deciding anything; he wasn't even doing anything. He was simply receiving. He had received his partner's caresses and he now was receiving his partner's body. It felt so intimate, so exciting. But as the cock nudged the back of his throat, he began to gag. Before he could panic he felt the tip of a wand against the side of his neck and suddenly his throat relaxed. It was an amazing sensation. He just lay there for a moment, breathing in harsh gusts through his nose while the cock slowly fucked in and out of his mouth. He began to move.

His bonds would not let him shift his body much or use his hands. But he used his tongue and his lips to taste every inch of the length that was moving in and out of him. He sucked as hard as he could and ran his tongue along the rough surface of the cock, swirling around the head whenever it drew out of this throat into his mouth. There was a steady dribble of a delicious fluid coming from the slit, and he swallowed over and over again. When he swallowed around the head of the cock when it was deep in his throat all movement ceased for an endless moment. Then his throat was flooded as his partner's cock pulsed again and again and again.

~*~*~*~

Severus Snape was going to explode. He could feel it. He was as unstable as one of Longbottom's concoctions. He didn't understand it. He should be content. He was no longer at the beck and call of a madman, and the Wizarding world had forgiven him for his crimes. He himself knew that absolution was not so easily granted, but this was not new knowledge. He could not imagine what was driving him now. Wasn't it high time for some rest?

No rest for the wicked ran through his mind, to the time of his footfalls as he paced the castle halls. He was wicked. There was no debating that. And tonight his steps were leading him inevitably towards further deviancy. He had flirted with this plan for months now, and it seemed tonight was the night when he was succumbing to temptation. Luna Lovegood had told him of the Room of Requirement, and how Dumbledore’s Army had used it during that terrible year when he was the unwilling Headmaster of Hogwarts. Trust Gryffindors to use the room for noble, heroic purposes. His mind had immediately leapt to far less savory possibilities. Tonight, as he approached the Room, he focused intensely on what he wanted. He was not specific, trusting to the magic of the Room. He just wanted one thing. Some blessed relief.

When he arrived at the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, he felt even more foolish than that famous dunderhead. But since he was already there, it was a simple matter to walk and twirl. Once, twice... on the third turn he was astonished to find a door where there had been an empty wall. He had not really wanted to believe Luna. He didn't want to admit that the students knew something about the castle that he didn't. But the notion had stuck in his head until the compulsion to seek out the Room became irresistible. Luna was even more addle-brained than the typical Hogwarts student. But it seemed that she had spoken truth. Whether or not the Room met his requirements remained to be seen.

He entered the Room briskly. No point in showing fear, even if this was some sort of elaborate, time-delayed student prank. He headed directly towards the enormous bed that stood against the far wall. There were so many blankets and coverlets on the bed that it was difficult to see the top of it. There did appear to be something, or someone... When Severus Snape saw who was lying on that enormous bed, blindfolded and hands tethered to the headboard, he thought his heart would stop.

Not for the first time, he cursed Pomfrey and her thrice-damned insistence that his throat be subjected to the Immobulus and Silencio charms until he had completely healed from Nagini's bite. This was obviously an unprecedentedly malicious and childish prank. His hands clenched as he internally raged and worked his silent mouth around the dressing-down that the Idiot Who Lived Again deserved for mocking him in this manner.

It took a few minutes for Snape to realize that he heard no mocking laughter. No students jumped out to point and jeer at him. Even more surprisingly, it took his own firming cock nudging against his trousers to make him realize that Harry Potter was starkers. Snape closed his eyes tight and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes the boy was still there: naked, blindfolded and bound. The smile that burst onto Severus’s face at the sight would have blinded Harry, if he hadn’t already been blindfolded. Severus Snape took a deep breath, and leapt feet first into his fondest, most secret dream.

Many, perhaps all, of those who knew Severus Snape might be surprised at the nature of his most heartfelt desire. Most would guess that it had to do with Harry Potter. Almost all of them would allow the bondage part of this situation. None, except Severus himself, would imagine the tenderness that the scene awoke in the ex-Death Eater.

Once he had decided that the Room of Requirement was truly the best thing ever, Severus wasted no more time. He adroitly straddled the bound youth's legs. He was somewhat surprised when the legs beneath him began to buck and twist. However, when he steadied himself with his hands on the boy's hips, the Harry facsimile instantly stilled. He watched in fascination as the boy's face twisted in confusion, then visibly relaxed.

At first Severus was surprised at the initial resistance. His fantasies did not include rape, much as he was sure thiswould surprise many of his former associates in the Dark Lord's service. But as he watched the boy beneath him draw in a shuddering breath and then relax under his hands, he realized the Room's genius. He did not want a practiced slut, or a coy seducer (like Draco, his traitorous mind whispered). He wanted the Boy Who Lived in all of his awkward inexperience. He wanted to be the one who led him from resistance, to acceptance, to enthusiasm. He wanted to ravish Harry Potter's innocence. No one had touched it: not Dumbledore, not Voldemort. After everything he'd done, everything he'd sacrificed for the boy, Severus Snape felt it was his due. He would certainly never get this prize in real life, so he took what the Room offered with no hesitation.

Severus was enjoying this immensely. He knew that this was only a trick of the Room, but it was incredibly convincing. He tweaked one of the boy's dusky nipples, and was rewarded with a soft intake of breath. He clasped the back of the boy's head and pulled him up to be devoured. When he pulled back and tasted Harry's neck, chest and stomach, the boy began to moan. It was almost too delicious. He swallowed the moans with another deep kiss, then continued his exploration of the boy's body.

This Harry seemed to slide right past acceptance into enthusiasm. He was bucking up against Severus again, now from excitement instead of fear. Gods, the boy was strong. He was managing to lift Severus's weight just by bucking his hips. It was unbelievably arousing. He had not touched the boy's straining erection, and Harry was pleading incoherently for contact. When Harry had reached near-delirium, Severus lifted himself off of the boy's legs. As another powerful thrust lifted Harry's buttocks off the bed, Severus took the opportunity to catch the boy's buttocks in his hands and lift him to his mouth. The boy’s grunts of effort melded into a scream when Severus engulfed his leaking prick. Severus swallowed around the hard length, capturing each bitter spurt, reveling in the taste of the boy’s submission.

When he was sure that he had milked every drop from the boy, Severus released him back onto the bed. Harry lay panting and spent. But Severus was nowhere near done with him. A table had appeared next to the bed; on it was a cup of water. He hoisted Harry into a semi-sitting position and carefully tipped the water down his throat. The boy was so beautiful. Severus caressed a flushed cheek, and felt himself color as Harry leaned into his touch. He ran his thumb over the boy's swollen lips and was surprised when his thumb was sucked into the wet warmth. Then Harry bit his thumb.

Severus was electrified by the feeling of Harry's teeth on his flesh. He flung the cup away, straddled the boy's legs, undid the buttons of his trousers, and pressed the purple head of his cock to that impertinent mouth. Again, Harry hesitated. Severus gently rubbed the leaking head of his cock against Harry's lower lip until Harry opened his mouth wide. Severus pushed past the boy's lips, into the hot wetness, inch by inch. When he was almost completely sheathed, Harry began to gag a bit. Merlin's beard, the Room was incredibly realistic in its fantasy fulfillment. Naturally, an obvious virgin like Harry Potter would not be able to immediately take his entire length. Severus solved that problem with a handy charm that he had learned when he himself was a young lad. As Harry's throat relaxed, Severus began to leisurely move in and out of the hot mouth.

He had barely established a pleasing rhythm when the boy beneath him went wild. He suddenly began sucking and licking at Severus's cock as though it was the thing he wanted to taste most in the world. The untrained mouth slobbering and pulling at him urged him to fuck it even harder. He had his hands pressed against the wall, and was shoving his prick down Harry's throat as far as he could, over and over. He knew it was just an illusion, so he felt no compunction about being as rough as he desired. Then the boy began swallowing around him as he thrust deep, and Severus howled silently as he came and came and came.

~*~*~*~

Harry awoke with a start. He was in his own bed in the Gryffindor Tower. But the last thing he remembered was being in the Room of Requirement... As he thought about what had occurred in that room, he became aware that his usual morning arousal had a little something extra. There was an unaccustomed ache there that told him that the night before had been no dream. He groped at his nightstand to make sure that his glasses and wand were still there, and when he had reassured himself, he turned his attention to his more pressing problem. As he gripped himself, he wished that he had a face to go with the memories that drove his hand to move faster and faster. He was surprised when the memory that finally made him come was the feeling of that blunt, blind head, gently rubbing his mouth, mutely begging for entry.

He thought he had pushed the memory to the back of his mind by the time he went down to breakfast. All of the boys in his year were going through physical changes, and he was glad that the Gryffindor policy on such things was not to comment. So no one commented on his unusually sated look. If they even noticed. Ron was busy negotiating his latest truce with Hermione, Neville was making eyes at all the blond girls in the Great Hall, and Dean and Ginny were entwined. Looking at them actually made him feel a bit ill. Seamus, of course, was still in bed after another late night of celebrating the end of the war, as he had been for months and months. Harry was left alone to eat his porridge in silence. He had thought, somehow, that the end of the war would have erased the thing that made him separate. Whatever it was that made him always alone, even when he was surrounded by friends.

Harry carried his quietness with him as he walked with his chattering friends down to the dungeons for double Potions. He was abstracted as he was jostled in the hallway; he was distracted as he sat down in his accustomed seat and Ron talked at him. He was reaching for something in the back of his mind when Snape made his usual dramatic entrance. It wasn't until the Potions Master was halfway through writing the day's assignment on the chalkboard that Harry gasped and turned pale. He had realized exactly why the smell from last night was so very familiar. Harry didn't feel any better when the man turned his glare towards him and Hermione. The man was terrifying, even without his voice. Harry waved Hermione away and turned his gaze towards Snape. He left it there.

~*~*~*~

Severus was quite pleased with the way he was comporting himself. Just because he felt he deserved to despoil the Chosen One didn't mean that the world would agree. There could be no hint of his fantastical activities. He knew that what happened in the Room would be undetectable. He had tried every trick he could think of to determine what Dumbledore's Army had gotten up to in there, with no success. Perhaps Dumbledore... but not McGonagell. He was safe from that direction. All that remained was for him to remain discreet. He foresaw no problem there.

He did not even glance at the Gryffindor table during breakfast. Not more than a few times, certainly. And he did not falter when he entered the classroom. Not that it mattered. The obnoxious brat was just as self-absorbed as always. Harry did not look up once, the entire morning. Then, as Severus was almost done listing the ingredients for the assignment of the day, Harry almost fainted right away in the Potions classroom.

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes as pointed to Harry, then to Hermione, then to the door. Harry waved his friend away and rather breathlessly protested that he was fine. The only change Severus noticed was that now the boy could not keep his eyes off of him. Snape rather smugly enjoyed heated gaze for the rest of class and throughout dinner. He was quite secure in his belief that his session in the Room of Requirement was a safely-kept secret.

~*~*~*~

Harry was not stupid. He was no Hermione; he had little patience for research. He did not have Ron's intuitive understanding of strategy. But a quick grasp of the reality of the crazy situations in which he inevitably found himself had saved his life more than once. He watched Snape closely once he realized that it was he whom he had met in the Room of Requirement. Snape did look quite smug today, more than usual. He also looked more... delicious than usual. Harry honestly didn't even take the time to question his new assessment of the Potions Master. He had never felt as good as he had the night before. He was just eighteen and he had suffered more than most people would in their entire lives. If Snape made him feel that good, then Harry would do what he had to do to keep that feeling. He would figure out a way to keep Snape. He reckoned it was the least he deserved after everything he'd done.

So he continued to watch Snape. Over the next few days, the smugness dissipated. Snape was as surly as ever. He paid Harry neither more nor less attention. Harry could not figure it out. Surely Snape would never lose an opportunity to blackmail Harry. Yet everything pointed to the fact that it had actually been Snape with him in the Room. He had felt he bony hands, the long hair had brushed across Harry’s face and body, the thin lips had teased and caressed him.

Harry was sure he was right. It had to have been his actual professor in the Room with him. For one thing, Harry wasn't even sure that the Room could manufacture humans, now that he thought about it. Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration seemed to argue against it. Surely Professor Snape was aware of this. But, Harry mused, sometimes we believe what we choose to believe. If Snape's purpose in making love to him wasn't blackmail, it must have been lust. And the Snape whom Harry knew would not want to believe that he lusted after Harry Potter. But the thing that really convinced Harry that it was the real Snape who had ravished him was the fact that the man in the Room of Requirement had been silent. Harry's fantasy Snape would not have been deprived of his voice. Harry wanted to have proof before he trusted his intuition on this matter. He decided to test out his theory.

After some concentration and a quick three spins past the tutu-wearing trolls, Harry once again found himself tied to an elaborate bed in the Room of Requirement. He was nude, spread-eagled this time, and once again he was blindfolded. But he wouldn't be for long. The door was left invitingly ajar, but it was only visible and accessible to one other. Harry knew from his recent surveillance that Snape had added a little detour to his nightly rounds.

Harry held his breath when he heard footsteps approaching the bed. Again, there was the interminable pause during which he could sense the presence of his partner, but felt and heard nothing. This time the delay was explained when the body that spread itself over his was also nude. The man hadn't even taken his trousers off the last time. The feeling of bare flesh against his was infinitely better.

It was so good that for quite a while he forgot his grand plan. He simply reveled in the strong, bony hands that worked his flesh like bread dough and the tongue that stroked every inch of his body. The blindfold was forgotten as well, and Harry didn't realize his mistake when he moaned out Snape's name until the man suddenly stilled above him.

Harry swore internally as he willed the blindfold away. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

~*~*~*~

Severus froze in shock when the boy writhing below him moaned his name. He suddenly wasn't sure what direction this fantasy was taking. He had enjoyed the lack of responsibility the Room's offerings gave him, but this lack of control was disconcerting. He did not enjoy being surprised. He had had little enough control over his life and his body ever since he could remember. This disconcerting development had nothing to do with his fantasies.

In a flash Severus realized that he was actually in bed with the The Boy Who Lived. Again. Only a moment more and he realized that the game was over before it had truly begun. Harry had moaned his name. Harry knew that he was submitting to Severus Snape. The idiot had already gone all-in.

He burned to chastise the boy, but he stopped himself. There was no point in tipping his hand. If he knew Harry Potter, and he did know Harry Potter, Severus would not have to wait long to win the entire pot.

~*~*~*~

Whatever had stilled Severus for those few frustrating and terrifying moments had passed. Harry had thought the man was passionate before. Now he seemed a man possessed. Harry would later wonder if those rumors about Snape being a vampire were at least partially true. Or maybe he was part Dementor. He certainly seemed to be trying his damnedest to suck Harry's soul out through his cock. All Harry could do was flex his fingers and toes and thrash his head from side to side. He was still securely tied to the bedposts. He could also moan, and pant, and when he came he screamed "Severus!"

When he heard Harry shout his name once more, the man calmed. He gently tongued Harry's softened prick, and suddenly Harry's legs were free. They were limp, and Severus massaged Harry's thighs as he licked around the base of his cock and took Harry's balls into his mouth, one at a time. Harry was having trouble remembering what he had planned to say. He only had the breath to gasp, anyway, so it hardly mattered. When Severus licked down his crease, he remembered how to moan. And when he felt a hot tongue working its way into his hole, he learned a new way to scream.

Harry panted as a slick finger replaced Severus's tongue. It felt very strange. He stiffened a bit, and the other hand grasped his hip. A thumb caressed his hipbone as the finger crooked inside him. Harry gasped with surprise and the finger was joined by another, and then another. He keened with pleasure as the fingers scissored within him, brushing past the spot that sent sparks shooting through him.

Harry almost cried when Severus withdrew his fingers and sat up. He whined from the loss of sensation, and Severus responded by lifting Harry's useless legs up onto his shoulders. When Harry felt the blind, blunt head from his fantasies pressing against him, he found his voice.

"Wait, wait!" His voice was hoarse from screaming.

Harry had trusted that Severus would stop when he asked. This, above everything else, had proven to him how much he honored the man, as well as lusted for him. And his instincts were correct. Despite the frantic heat between them, Severus froze when Harry spoke.

"This is amazing, Severus. You are amazing. But I want my first time to be with a real person." Harry held his breath as he laid his cards on the table.

He thought he had prepared himself for every possible reaction from his professor, his comrade-in-arms, his lover. But if he hadn't been lying down he would have fallen over from shock when Severus spoke.

"Indeed, my impudent brat. Very commendable. Luckily for me, I am a real person." And with that, he thrust shallowly into Harry's tight opening.

As Harry panted for breath, Severus continued, "Unluckily for you, Madame Pomfrey removed the spells on my voice today." He continued to slide into Harry, inch by inch. As he finally thrust home, he concluded, "You will not be able to avoid a thorough scolding for your trickery."

Harry gasped with pleasure as Severus clarified, with every thrust, the punishments Harry had earned. He couldn't wait.


End file.
